


The First Day of The Rest of His Life (Perfect Distraction mix)

by puszysty



Category: Popslash
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puszysty/pseuds/puszysty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick gives up smoking</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day of The Rest of His Life (Perfect Distraction mix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeiouna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeiouna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The First Day of The Rest of His Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/41539) by [Erika (Aeiouna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeiouna/pseuds/Erika). 



> Thanks to msktrnanny for the beta!

Today was the day. Of course, he'd been telling himself that for months now, but this time, he meant it. He knew the smoking was bad for him, it'd been driven into him at a young age, by various teachers, family members, and tv shows, but it wasn't enough to get him to quit. Nothing had been. Until today.

At least, what's he kept telling himself. Truth was, he had no dramatic reason to quit. He didn't have a hacking cough, no one he loved had died of lung cancer. It wasn't even affecting his singing, if he was honest with himself, not enough to be noticable yet anyway. He'd just gotten tired of it. Tired of his pack a day habit, tired of having to step out and take a break when he needed a fix, tired of the feeling the cigarettes left in his mouth, the taste they left on his tongue, the smell they left in the air. Maybe he wouldn't be doing this, the whole quitting thing, if he didn't find the aftertaste so repulsive. Who knows. Either way, he was ready for this.

First step: throw the packs he had left in the trash.

*Clunk* Five boxes of Marlboro Lights, in the waste bin. Nick tapped his foot on the floor and stared at the bin full of Marlboros. It was either a perfectly good idea, or a waste of the forty bucks he'd spent on them. Dammit. Well, it's not like they were open…

No. No, he wasn't going to think like that. 'This is the first day of the rest of your life, Carter,' he thought to himself. 'You can do this.'

He picked the cartons out of the trash, opened one and plucked out two cigarettes, then stuffed them in his shirt pocket. For some unknown reason, he wanted the temptation. Wanted to know he could resist it. Nick tossed the remaining ones out the window.   
Step one: done.

****

An hour passed, then two. It was, quite possibly, the longest two hours of his life. And it was still only morning. It felt like the two cigarettes he had on him were burning a hole through his pocket. It'd be easier if he had the guys around to distract him. Unfortunately, Howie and AJ were off doing god knows what, and Brian was spending some long awaited time with his cousin, which left Nick here alone in his hotel room.

Nick ran a hand over his head. He knew that if he could just make it through today, he'd be fine. He just didn't know if he could get that far. Nick turned on the tv. At least that'd be a distraction for a little while.

The Godfather was on. Excellent. A long movie, and a good one at that. About twenty minutes in, Marlon Brando lit up a cigar on screen. Watching him, Nick felt the urge to light up. The cigarettes were still there in his pocket, his lighter sitting on the night stand. Just watching Don Corleone take a long drag…

Nick changed the channel, looking for anything with no possibility of cigarettes, cigars, joints, hookas, or anything else. Spongebob Squarepants was on. Nobody smoked on Nickelodeon. He'd be safe sticking with this channel.

****

Nick checked the clock on the nightstand. Three hours. He knew it hadn't been very long, as he'd only watched two episodes, but it felt like so much more time had passed. There was only so much Spongebob one person could take.

It probably would have been a better idea to use nicotine patches, or gum, or something like that. But he couldn't just go out and buy any of that himself. The fans didn't know he smoked, and if he was seen buying anti-smoking remedies, the tabloids were sure to get wind of it. He'd been using AJ to get his cigarettes- everyone knew AJ smoked, and after his battle with the bottle, it was almost like people understood. He on the other hand was supposed to be happy, beautiful, and perfect. The public was less likely to be accepting. Nevermind that he had demons too.

Nick decided to make use of the hotel's swimming pool for a while, and swim some laps. He was never really one for exercise, but it was something to keep him occupied. The rhythmic motion of swimming seemed to clear his head. The steady _slap-slap-slap_ against the water was like a metronome, it sort of felt like being in the studio. Any number of melodies, most often songs off their tour roster, ran through his head matching the beat of his strokes. Nick usually tried to avoid thinking about singing on his days off, but there was nothing else he felt nearly as all-consuming. It was the reason he never smoked at the studio.

After twenty minutes, or maybe more like thirty, Nick decided he'd had enough of swimming. He'd go back to his room for a fresh set of clothes, then go hunt around town for someplace good to get lunch. That should take up quite a bit of time.

****

Nick checked the clock again, for what must have been the tenth time in the sixty minutes. Six hours. Nick stared up at the ceiling. He was running out of ways to keep himself occupied. He supposed he could always pick up a book, but then people would really know something was going on. If the bus were in the parking lot, he'd be off to play video games, but it was parked back at the stadium, and the hotel didn't have anything hooked up to the tv.

His last two cigarettes now sat on the nightstand. He should have thrown them out the window with the rest. (Though now he had a feeling the hotel staff would be on him about his careless littering. A trash can in the breakfast area would have been a better option.)

Nick chewed on his nails, his eyes darting between the alarm clock and the two cigarettes on the nightstand. How much could one possibly hurt?

'Fuck this,' Nick thought. 'I'm going to find Brian.'

Nick ran his spare keycard- the one Brian gave him, as Brian had a tendency to lose them- through the lock on Brian's door. "Frick?" he asked, hoping he wasn't disrupting. "Hey, you there?"

Brian was sitting on the floor with Kevin, the two of them appearing to be in the middle of an intense game of…War? At least Nick hadn't interrupted anything important. Both of them looked up as Nick entered the room.

"Something bothering you Nick?" Brian asked. Nick could tell he was concerned, since he hadn't called him Frack in response.

Nick flopped down on the bed and sprawled out, trying to hide any sign that he was craving a smoke _really badly_ at the moment. "I just need to talk."

"You don't look so good," Kevin said. "You look jumpy." Apparently he wasn't hiding it all that well.

"No, I'm fine, really," Nick sighed. The last thing he needed was to get Kevin worried, especially since he'd be worrying long distance after today. No one ever believed you over the phone when you told them you were alright. "Just needed to be near someone besides myself."

"Bored?" asked Brian.

"Out of my fucking mind." Which was true, at least.

"Yeah, us too. I forgot how dull and boring Kevin was," said Brian. Kevin gave Brian an evil glare. "We could go out."

"At 3:30 in the afternoon?" asked Nick. "Exactly what is your definition of _out_?"

"Good point," Brian replied. "We could deal you in to this rousing game of War we've got going on."

"Please," said Kevin. "If we're going stay here and play cards, we could at least get a decent game of poker going."

"Sounds good to me," Nick replied, and quickly slid himself off the bed onto the floor.

"What are we betting?" asked Brian. "I think I've got about thirty dollars on me, along with a few scraps of paper and some lint."

The three of them dug through their pockets, looking for whatever it was they could find. Sticking his hand into his, Nick realized he'd left the cigarettes still sitting on the nightstand. It felt different not having them there, within arm's reach. It felt…good.

Nick threw his twelve dollars and thirty two cents into the pile. "Cheapskate," remarked Kevin.

"Like that's news," said Nick. "Deal it up, Kev."

****

Nick stopped counting the hours. He was too preoccupied, first with cards, which eventually morphed into utter ridiculousness, then off to dinner and more ridiculousness. The whole time, he never even thought about smoking. It seemed he'd found the perfect distraction: his bandmates. And in the middle of a tour, he knew the distraction would always be around. And especially, if worse came to worst, this distraction would kick his ass for falling off the wagon once he told them what he was up to. Why he never thought to come to them sooner, he had no idea. He really wasn't going to do this alone after all.

Sometime late that evening, Howie and AJ finally showed up back at the hotel. "Hey guys," AJ announced as Brian let them in to his hotel room. "Miss us?"

"Nope," said Nick.

"Ass," replied AJ. "Here, I picked these up for you." AJ tossed a box of Marlboros his way.

Nick caught them and took a look at the box. It wasn't that the urge wasn't there anymore, it was, but he'd gone all day without them. It'd been a long day, but he'd done it. And he'd do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Nick tossed the box back. "Not anymore, man."

"Serious?" asked AJ.

"Serious," replied Nick. "Gone all day."

"Your first day?" asked AJ.

"First day," said Nick. First day of the rest of his life.


End file.
